Paper Walls
by Saf Dawnheart
Summary: In which Flynn finally learns the main reason behind Sodia's unfailing loyalty toward him. And Yuri just sits back and laughs at the obliviousness of his closest friend. — Sodia/Flynn.


My first foray into ToV writing! :) Hopefully it's not too crappy/eye-burning. Obviously if you're here, you probably should have picked up a snack or something, because yes, this oneshot IS freakishly long (it started out as just a drabble, I swear! -shot-). It's my baby, what can I say. :3

I'll just say right now, though: MANY MANY APOLOGIES FOR SODIA'S OOC, even before the... erm... yeah... part. (You'll see.) For some reason, she's really hard for me to write, which is why most of this is in Flynn's POV. (YuriFlynn BFFL interactions come easily to me, though.) Maybe my Yurita fic will be easier to write. These characters are surprisingly difficult to work with...

**_Disclaimer-_** If I owned ToV, don't you think there would be more canon Yurita in the game? -hardcore shipper is shot'd- (I DIED DOING WHAT I LOVED! -shot'd again-)

* * *

Sodia watches the group of people led by the man Flynn deigns to call his "best friend" make their way to the edge of the plains, talking quietly amongst themselves and most likely preparing themselves for the journey to Nordopolica and Dahngrest ahead of them. Lowell is strangely silent, which somewhat surprises Sodia; from the moment she met him, she's been able to see that his dry tongue and ready sarcasm almost always take over a conversation, particularly with the people he knows well (what she's seen of his interactions with Flynn has told her that much). So it bemuses her that he'd keep a closed mouth around the group he's spent the most time with, Lady Estellise and Captain Schwann and the rest.

And while Sodia looks on, the memory of Zaude roiling through her mind as it always does when she sees Yuri nowadays, it hits her that they never really finished the conversation she and the long-haired man had started back in Capua Nor.

So, readying herself and calling upon the core of steel within her that's taken her this far in the Imperial Knights, she steps forward and tentatively calls out, "Yuri," trying to ignore her suddenly-pounding heart and the resurfacing fears.

Lowell moves only slightly in response at the sound of his name, glancing over his shoulder expectantly and stopping in his tracks. She hesitates, then berates herself for doing so and continues, voice as steady as always. "Thank you, for… um… saving Flynn." Feeling somewhat unnerved by the force of Yuri's strong eyes on her, she looks away, resisting the powerful urge to turn and run like a coward. _Steady,_ she tells herself, _you got yourself into this._

She hears him call to the others to go on ahead, and the sound of fading footfalls announces that the others have obeyed his command, reluctantly or not. A rustle of boots landing against dirt, and then: "I'm not gonna tell anyone."

Even though this is all but an echo of what he told her at the port town, it's still somewhat of a shock to her, which is effnough for her to return her gaze to him. Lowell is standing there, his posture revealing nothing of the heaviness of this conversation, gripping the string of his scabbard as readily as always; not even his face betrays his emotions. It's the veiled anger in his eyes, chips of unwavering onyx, that causes Sodia to still direct her words to somewhere on his neck.

"Why?" she asks at last, rather pathetically.

"Because I can understand why you tried to kill me back there," he answers steadily. "There's something you just want to protect, even if it means dirtying your own hands."

At this Sodia has to blink, because the man she's always scoffed at, the man she's always passed off as nothing but a common criminal, the man who couldn't logically be her… superior's best friend, has just summed up her emotions in less than twenty words.

Lowell continues, his deep baritone rumbling out into the biting night air. "You lose your senses in the heat of the moment and find yourself doing things you'd never imagine."

(_Like stabbing your commandant's best friend for no particular reason,_ is left unspoken between them, but it hangs in the air like a poisonous fog.)

Somewhere in Sodia's mind is the knowledge that his words are meant to close the subject, yet somehow, she feels she can't let this go. "I know what I have done is unforgivable," she murmurs. "It would have been easier if you'd blame me for this."

Lowell rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," he snorts, causing Sodia to blink again, this time in mild anger. "Don't think I'm here doing this for your own good. I'm not going to put the blame on you just so you can ease your conscience."

Somehow, Sodia had seen that coming. She's always been fully aware that he'd let the memory of the incident plague her in her darkest nightmares rather than return the favor of what she'd almost done to him, because mental pain is almost always worse than physical pain; indeed, the thought of the agony she'd caused Flynn is enough to make her feel as though her own blade had just erupted from her middle.

But knowing Yuri's own punishment for her doesn't help matters at all.

"Wh-what should I do?" she broods, more to herself than to him.

His answer takes so long in coming that she almost thinks he didn't hear her at all, but when it comes, it's spoken as firmly as the rest of his speech to her. "I have no intention of lecturing you about rights and wrongs. Go figure it out yourself."

Harsh as his words are, they strike a chord within her, and she gathers up all her courage and meets his eyes. He still seems annoyed, which doesn't surprise her at all; Sodia knows if she were Yuri Lowell at this moment, staring at the guilt-ridden young woman in front of her, then she would feel no limit of irritation toward the whining and desire of blame that the other keeps spouting. A small exhalation of self-reproach escapes her as that thought crosses her mind.

At hearing that sound, barely audible over the murmur of the knights and civilians nearby, Lowell relents a little. "If you can't," he says a little more gently, "go ask someone you can talk to about it. But not me."

_Someone you can talk to…_

"As Flynn's friend, I'm grateful for the loyalty you've shown towards him."

And without another word, not even registering the obvious surprise that causes Sodia to raise her head and stare wide-eyed at him (this has to be the first straight comment she's heard from him), Yuri turns on his heel and leaves, his scabbard catching the moonlight just before it, and he, disappears into the murky blackness of the dark plains.

Sodia opens her mouth, an awkward little grunt emerging in the beginnings of calling after him; but then she decides against it and closes her mouth, her head lowering as she considers Yuri's words. He has a valid point, and she knows it; trying to force him to blame her won't assuage her guilt and overwhelming regret.

Yet his last words keep going through her mind, and they just won't leave.

_If you can't, go ask someone you can talk to about it._

She tugs her braid absently, chewing her bottom lip in yet another idiotic nervous habit of hers. The first person that comes to her mind when she thinks about people she can talk to is Flynn, yet something feels wrong about that line of thought. She likes to think she knows him well enough to tell him anything – wants more than anything else in the world for that to be the case – but the sad reality is that, aside from patrols and the occasional discussion of the latest rumor percolating within the knights, Sodia has fallen head over heels for a man she barely talks to.

Not to mention that Flynn is extremely perceptive: if she started talking some nonsense about right and wrong in front of him, a subject that he's known her staunch opinion on for as long as he's known her, he would probably get that anxious look on his face and ask what's wrong, and then it would be all she could do _not_ to tell him what had brought this on, because she hates seeing him worried almost as much as she hates the results of letting her guard down.

(Not to mention that she hasn't fallen for him _at all. _Really.)

And Witcher… Sodia nearly groans aloud at the thought of Witcher getting even an inkling of her inner turmoil. Once she had tried discussing what she knew of guild politics with the young mage; things had not ended well and even her endless amount of patience with him had started to run thin. No, Witcher is definitely out of this.

And it's not like she knows anyone else within the knights very well, either. Sodia's objective within the knights is not to make friends, after all; it is to protect the people and make her superiors proud, whether those superiors are blond-haired, blue-eyed, and answer to the name of Flynn Scifo or not. Yet that unwavering resolve offers no comfort now.

A sigh hisses out of her, becoming steam as it makes contact with the icy air. Sodia's not aware that the night cold has crept up on her until she sees that exhalation make itself known in her surroundings, and suddenly she has to rub her shoulders in a vain attempt to stay warm. Shivering just a bit, she glances around. A blur of apple-green catches her eye, and she has just enough time to attach the name _Witcher_ to that blur in her mind before the mage in question stumbles to an unsteady stop in front of her, using his staff as a crutch.

"What're you doing out here, Sodia?" he pants, and swallows audibly before continuing. "The rest of the knights are over there with the civilians, and we need everyone we have since the commandant has left."

The last part of Witcher's words comes to her with a sense of clarity, and Sodia blinks, following after him almost absently. "The commandant left? What for?"

"He said he's getting supplies," Witcher answers as they make their way through the hilly plain. Sodia frowns, about to ask just where Flynn thinks he can find supplies in a place like this, when all at once, the bright light of a fire looms up in front of them, and she has to blink against the sudden change of lighting. When the glare spots clear away from her vision, she spots a mixture of civilians and knights huddled around the fire, the latter group discernible by the way the firelight glows blindingly off of their armor. One of the knights raises his head as Sodia and Witcher approach, and the flickering light provided by the fire eventually reveals Leblanc's eyes staring at them. "Have a seat, you two," the captain invites, moving over slightly.

"But that hardly gives us any room at all," Witcher complains, but sits down nonetheless. Sodia raises one eyebrow very slightly, and, after a moment of consideration, carefully settles near the back of the circle. She hasn't had a problem with the senseless skirt on her uniform for a while, but she knows she can never be too careful.

She takes a look around the somewhat-disorienting combination of ragged civilians and dignified knights. From what she can see over Boccos' head, the contrast between the two groups is startling, and she feels a twinge of sympathy when a flicker of movement draws her gaze to a young mother, who is herding her curiosity-filled child away from the warming flames. Sodia has never been too fond of children, yet the sight of the young woman watching out for her child's safety strikes a deep chord within the female knight. She can't explain it, but it reminds her of Flynn: ever the mother hen, always keeping his subordinates and even his closest friends out of trouble. Sodia has to fight back a weak chuckle at the memory of how Flynn protected Yuri at Zaude.

_And yet I felt I had to tear that down._ The reminder of her guilt comes back unbidden in a dizzying rush, and Sodia suddenly has to support herself with one palm, the cold beginning to nip at her like never before.

Yuri Lowell's words echo inside her mind. _If you can't, go ask someone you can talk to about it. But not me._

She knows she won't stop feeling tormented until she gets this out somehow; but something inside her still holds her back, and that frustrates her more than anything else. Ordinarily she would tackle this problem the way she takes care of most of her problems, with one long-haired criminal being the exception: use logic to find her way to the conclusion that makes the most sense, not unlike the way one finds their way to the light at the end of a dark tunnel. But something inside her holds her back from putting that analytical mind to use, and that frustrates her more than anything else. _What is it?_ she mentally demands: brusque and to the point even in her own self-interrogation. _Pride? Regret? Fear?_

Her frustration amplifies even further when it hits her that she has no real answer to that question.

"Sodia?" Witcher's voice, filled with nervous hesitation, breaks into her thoughts, and with the feeling of surfacing from deep, dark water, Sodia turns to look at him. He is watching her with a look of clear anxiety wrinkling his brow in a familiar expression, but this time for a different reason. Seeing the look of confusion on her features, Witcher nods to the people surrounding them; Sodia follows his gaze just in time to have to squint against the firelight reflecting off of the object in Leblanc's grip, and a frown replaces the previous questioning expression on her face.

Because where had that uproarious captain gotten bottles of wine in a situation like _this?_

"Captain Leblanc," she growls sternly, causing the captain to cringe ever so slightly and then turn slowly toward her with a look of impending doom on his features. "I don't believe this is the time for such… entertainment," she finishes rather lamely, gesturing at the bottle in his grasp in an attempt at an explanation.

"W-well, they're not mine!" the captain immediately blurts, and Sodia has to resist the mighty urge to roll her eyes. Up until now she's never really given much thought to the Schwann Brigade, but now that she is forced to be in close proximity with them, she realizes how bumbling and unfit the three men truly are. It's no wonder they've consistently failed to keep Yuri Lowell in imperial custody all this time.

(And she is _not_ going to think any more about Yuri Lowell, because that leads inevitably to thoughts about Flynn, and she doesn't need thoughts of her _superior officer_ plaguing her right now.)

Sodia almost misses Leblanc's blustering rebuttal in her own self-rebuke, but she does catch something about how Adecor and Boccos forced him into it, inducing indignant cries out "I say, what lies!" and "I don't even drink alcohol!" from the two men. In response, she simply narrows her eyes into violet slits. "Is the Commandant aware of this?"

She can almost hear the thoughts rushing through the Schwann Brigade's – and, now that she considers it, the other knights sitting in the circle as well's – minds (_of course she'd bring up the Commandant, it all goes back to the Commandant)._ Sodia likes to think she can conceal her feelings for Flynn skillfully, but on occasions such as this, it gets difficult to hide.

"It's just alcohol," one of the knights sitting near the Schwann Brigade points out, causing Sodia to switch her focus to him. One fine eyebrow lifts over a lavender eye as she considers the young man before her. He must have just joined the knights; she doesn't recognize him even though she has memorized the faces and voices of her fellow protectors of the people. He doesn't even falter, as a higher-ranked knight who knows Sodia's austerity would do, as he continues rather brashly, "We've just successfully fought off a massive horde of monsters and saved the residents of these parts. The least we could do is celebrate a little."

His words garner a low hum of tentative approval from the other knights, to the point that when he finishes speaking, even the civilians are nodding their heads in agreement. Sodia's eyes flick down to Witcher again; his eyes dart back up to meet her gaze from where he's sitting legs crossed on the ground, as if to say he supports her but she's on her own here. She opens her mouth, her brow furrowing in preparation for a stern response, but then closes it, not quite sure what to say.

It's probably at that moment that the events of the day (the exhausting trek to Capua Nor; the conversation with Yuri Lowell; fighting off all those monsters with the lingering concern in the back of her mind for Flynn _even though Yuri Lowell is with him, those two are best friends after all, they should fight well enough together, he'll be fine, but what if?;_ Yuri telling her to find someone to talk to about her problems) come crashing down on her head with the force of a giant wave, and suddenly exhaustion is pressing in on her and seeming to force her shoulders down, making her regret that reckless action at Zaude even more.

Because right now, all she wants to do is forget: forget her own rashness in trying to kill Yuri, forget her own jealousy toward Yuri for being close to Flynn, forget her feelings for Flynn: _everything that has driven her until now._

And so that's probably why she abruptly rises, makes her way around the circumference of the circle – much to the confusion of the other knights, who exchange bemused yet anxious glances, as though dreading what Sodia will do to them – reaches down to where Leblanc is sitting still holding the bottle in his hand, grabs it by its skinny neck, undoes the cork with some difficulty, tilts her head back, and takes a long swig of the bottle's night-darkened contents.

The taste of the wine is unexpectedly bitter going down, and she has to jerk her head back forward in order to release a tiny little cough, it's lingering so strongly in the back of her throat. She sweeps her gaze over the circle of knights and civilians and feels a sudden, irrational surge of self-hatred at their wide eyes and open mouths.

"Well?" she says, raising an eyebrow at Leblanc, whose countenance is almost comical in its surprise; the way his jaw is dropped reminds her distinctively of a fish out of water, and it would almost pull a chuckle out of her were she not feeling so despondent. "Didn't you hear him? This is a time for celebration." The last sentence is uttered with more than a touch of bitterness, and almost against her will she lifts the heavy bottle up and takes another long drink.

There is a moment of shocked silence; then a civilian asks something about whether or not the knights have any for them, and suddenly the clearing is an explosion of laughter and cheer and smiles and jokes. Sodia eyes them with a growing sense of apathy, and suddenly the cold – of the wind, of the glass bottle she's still holding – seems to dull slightly.

She knows the alcohol is already sinking in, because ordinarily she'd be mentally chiding herself for just looking on while her comrades laugh and talk and drink together; for not marching into the middle of them and delivering a lecture for them to remember for a good long while. The desire to do that is still there, deep within her, longing to be let loose, but somehow she can't bring herself to end their happiness.

And so that's probably why Sodia turns away, because the brightness of that happiness is too much for her to gaze at for longer than about three seconds; turns away and stumbles toward the now-blurry mass of trees in the opposite direction, ignoring Witcher's voice crying her name, sounding as though he's standing far away instead of nearby.

She stares at the bottle for a few long moments before taking another drink, and her surroundings blur more than ever before. With the rational part of her mind she registers that this reaction isn't really so surprising because she's never had an ounce of alcohol in her life before now (it's not exactly legal for a nineteen-year-old to drink alcohol like this anyway).

_What would Flynn think? _she wonders distantly. A shaky laugh escapes her as she pictures the commandant's shocked face in her mind; she can almost hear his normally gentle voice raised in rebuke toward her. _Put the bottle down, Sodia, it's not going to solve anything._

With the rational part of her mind she understands that he would be right; but the wine percolating inside her and the buzzing at the base of her skull and the self-hatred burning in her belly are gradually beginning to take over that part of her mind with the force of a beckoning hand, with the promise of relief from those feelings, however brief.

She yields to that temptation.

* * *

When Flynn arrives with a ready supply of gels and antidotes, he certainly doesn't expect what greets him when he spots the conspicuous fire looming up in front of him. The sight of his knights acting responsibly, yes – the sight of his knights _drinking_ and swaggering about like buffoons, definitely not.

But when the moonlight reveals the gathering of people in front of the fire, Flynn's first emotion is pride, that his knights can take charge of the situation like that and do whatever they can to keep the civilians safe and warm, especially after the exhausting events of the day; he knows he must have gotten used to Yuri's absence, because the commandant feels that same exhaustion running through his veins and weighing down his muscles at the mere memory of Yuri's bantering with him during battle. Despite his fatigue, Flynn can't hold back a chuckle knowing that Yuri hasn't changed at all.

But that pride – and, Flynn has to admit, amusement – fades abruptly when the scene becomes a little clearer and he gets a full view of what exactly the knights are doing. Yes, he'd heard the sound of voices raised in laughter as he had approached the gathering of knights and civilians on the plain, but he had merely passed it off as the two groups talking amiably together.

Flynn stops in his tracks as he takes in the scene; he had half-opened his mouth to announce his return, but, fighting the strong urge to drop his jaw fully, he closes his mouth and narrows his eyes against the glare of firelight against glass and armor. Blue eyes scan the area in growing anger, anger that is accompanied by slight confusion when no telltale orange hair distinguishes itself, no eager young female captain rushes up to him with furrowed brow and ready chastisement for her fellow knights. And that confusion manifests itself in the mental question _where's Sodia?_

Nonetheless, the sound of glass breaking brings Flynn abruptly back to the situation at hand. The commandant resumes his purposeful stride and halts directly in front of the fire.

He stands there for a few moments, glowering in silent disappointment at his men's behavior as he waits for them to notice he has returned. Naturally, the only person who has failed to join his comrades in their festivities realizes Flynn's appearance first.

"Commandant!" Witcher leaps up from his position next to the fire, eyes wide behind his glasses.

As though that cry were some kind of cue, the dull roar of conversation and laughter comes to an immediate halt. One of the knights, who is standing near a group of close-together trees, turns at the last moment to see why everything had come to a standstill, and the look of shock on his face would pull some laughter out of Flynn were his temper not roused. "C-commandant," the knight stammers, dropping his bottle on the ground; the sharp noise that results is almost jarring amid the silence.

Flynn simply glares at the captain in response, silencing him effectively and causing a look of dread to replace the nervous expression from before. Those blue eyes return to the other knights, whose countenances seem to have copied that look of impending doom. The notable exception of firm approval is still absent – even Witcher's body is slumped ever so slightly in a cower, even though he had nothing to do with any of this – and that worry stings Flynn again as he wonders where his second-in-command could possibly have gone.

But like before, he mentally pushes that worry aside and refocuses his disapproval on the knights before him.

"I'm disappointed in all of you," he says, voice loud and clear over the mild breeze and the crackling of the fire, which is still going strong in front of him. He adjusts the gel-filled knapsack on his back as he appraises the knights. For the first time he sees that the civilians have gathered behind the knights, exchanging apprehensive glances and shifting their feet awkwardly.

One of them is holding a child, he realizes as his gaze sweeps over them; it strikes an unexpected chord within him (he's always had a soft spot for children), but he knows he can't let that distract him.

"I leave for a little while to get some supplies, and when I come back, _this_ is what I find?" The knights flinch at the sharp tone, so rarely used, that Flynn's voice has acquired.

"Put down the bottles at once," the commandant orders after a few moments of tense, taut silence, a silence that is shattered by the sound of the knights complying hastily with his command. Flynn sighs and pushes his fingers through his bangs; he would have preferred the knights to have just put the wine down rather than _drop_ them on the grass, but at least they had listened to him. "These people have just been through a horrible monster attack on their land. They need rest and treatment for their wounds, not alcohol to drown it all out."

He runs his gaze over them again; exhaustion suddenly takes him in invisible claws, and another sigh forces its way out of him. "Get some rest," he advises wearily, rebuking tone from earlier all but gone. "We're going to need it over the next few days."

Having finished his speech, Flynn turns to Witcher, who instantly stands up straighter at having his superior's attention, and speaks the question that has been plaguing him since his return to their temporary camp. "Where is Sodia?"

At the sound of the female knight's name, Witcher flinches and hesitates, clearly at a loss for words. Flynn blinks, and one pale eyebrow goes up over a sapphire eye. "Witcher…?"

The mage's response takes so long to come that Flynn considers repeating the question, but his patience pays off when the green-haired boy responds. "W-with all due respect, sir, I don't think you'll want to go looking for Sodia at the moment," Witcher mumbles, eyes following the movements of the tall grass.

Flynn chuckles. "I'm sure she hasn't gone too far," he says. "I'm guessing she was the first person to object to this whole 'drinking' fiasco, right?"

"Yes, well – about that, Commandant…" Witcher deliberately trails off, casting a nervous glance toward the copse of trees behind him.

Witcher's hesitant, awkward demeanor is worrying and annoying Flynn at once: worry, blossoming in his chest and abdomen for his second-in-command, and annoyance for the mage himself. "I'm going to find Sodia," the commandant says firmly, taking the knapsack off his back and handing it to Witcher. "Distribute these among the knights and civilians." Rather teasingly, he adds, "And make sure not to step on any glass."

Witcher takes the bag with tentative hands, opening his mouth and reaching out one hand in an attempt to dissuade Flynn. But the commandant has made up his mind and won't be swayed, and so he sweeps past the mage with no problem, leaving Witcher staring helplessly after the regal silhouette of gold and blue.

_You'll find her, Commandant… but you probably won't like what you see._

* * *

When Flynn finds Sodia in a moonlit clearing that's all but hidden in the darkness-swathed forest, he certainly doesn't expect the sight that greets him when the telltale orange hair announces her presence to him. He likes to think he knows his second-in-command well enough to know her habits and personality, so naturally it's a shock to see her leaned up against the tree opposite him, clutching a nearly-empty bottle of wine in a death grip and staring at the sky with a vacant look in her violet eyes and trembling ever so slightly in a way that causes the dark liquid inside the bottle to quiver in response.

And he knows that if she were in her right mind, she would most certainly _not _be gnawing her bottom lip so viciously that even he could tell from this distance how intensely she was doing that.

So naturally he approaches cautiously, almost reaching one hand out toward her but catching himself in time. She's his comrade in arms, not a wild animal. "Sodia?" he tries.

The response is almost instantaneous. Her head whips toward him, and now he's close enough to see the unfocused look in her eyes, to realize with a surge of – what's that, _nervousness?_ – that the wine bottle wasn't emptied of its contents because she had dumped it out onto the ground.

"Commandant," she slurs, getting to her feet rather shakily and placing her free hand on the tree behind her for support. Instinctively, yet almost against his will, Flynn steps closer, ready to halt a possible fall should she stumble.

His concern proves to be valid when she attempts to remove her hand from the trunk in a way that oddly reminds him of a child trying to walk, and promptly swaggers forward. Flynn immediately reaches out his arms and she falls right into his grasp, the force of it nearly toppling the commandant over backwards himself.

"Sodia, are you…" he begins, but his words trail off when he realizes the indecency of the situation. They're close – too close for comfort on his part, and for some reason Flynn can suddenly feel his heart hammering like a demon against the inside of his ribs. He feels her lips curl upward against his chest and knows, with no small amount of embarrassment, that his abrupt change of pulse had not gone unnoticed by her. It would have been rather difficult for her to miss it, since her head is right against his heart.

"S'matter Flynn?" she giggles, and Flynn almost completes the fall that he had nearly done earlier, because Sodia would never giggle in her right mind. The thought of how drunk she is (and he feels an irrational anger beginning to boil within him when he thinks back to how this situation could have been avoided were it not for the others' lack of self-restraint) rushes back into his mind again, and the strange feeling of anxiety and nervousness and everything in between returns with it.

Flynn stiffens and pushes her away from him, holding her shoulders at arm's length so he wouldn't just let her collapse onto the ground. He appraises her with serious eyes, trying very very hard to ignore the way she's eyeing him. He can't put a finger on it, but it reminds him inexplicably of a hungry hawk getting ready to swoop down upon its prey. "You need to get back to the camp," he manages at last, rather lamely. "The others are worried about you."

Sodia snorts, tugging herself away from him; he's somewhat relieved that at least this aspect of the normal Sodia has returned, but that relief is pushed aside as he watches her come to lean against the tree again. "Sure," she warbles rather bluntly, tipping her head back to accept the last of the wine in the bottle. He watches, eyebrows arching further and further into his bangs, as she wipes her free hand across her mouth. "I think… think it's just you, Flynn Scifo."

Flynn sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Yes, I'm worried about you. You'd never do this kind of thing if you weren't drunk."

"I am _not_ drunk!" she retorts, dropping the wine bottle into the grass; Flynn flinches, bracing himself for the explosion of glass, but shockingly it remains intact. "You, Flynn, are just… just a… dirty little liar."

Flynn narrows his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. "Why did you run off in the first place? I never thought you were the kind of person to jump at any chance to get some free alcohol." A thought strikes him, and he queries warily, "Are you the legal age?" He doesn't know what answer he expects; Sodia acts so much older than she seems: always piling Flynn's responsibilities on herself and trying to help him any way she can.

"Nope!" the female knight answers, popping the "p" to accentuate the word.

Flynn blinks, then sighs, pushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand. "Really, Sodia: why are you out here, by yourself, emptying a whole bottle of wine? That isn't like you at all." Part of him wants her to answer the question just so the worry simmering within his stomach can vanish, because seeing his second-in-command so out of sorts actually scares him a bit.

A change seems to come over her as Flynn speaks. One moment she's grinning and stumbling about like a typical drunkard, and the next the smile has vanished, the mask has cracked to be replaced with a different expression: one of anxiety that nearly matches Flynn's own emotions right now.

"Sodia," he repeats, more gently. "What's going on? You've been acting odd ever since we got back from Zaude." He can't help but wince as he mentions Zaude, since the memories of that place are images he'd prefer not to conjure up, unless he wanted to induce his own tears – memories of uncertainty, of fear, of grief and sorrow and having to exercise control of his own emotions in front of the other knights more than ever. Of course, he knows those feelings should be slightly stultified now that he knows Yuri didn't die there, but Zaude is still associated with sadness in Flynn's mind.

Sodia sighs, a little shakily, Flynn thinks. She hesitates, lowering her head so that the end of her braid slips down from its normal position against her collarbone. "Flynn, do you really wanna know the truth?" she mumbles.

She's gone back to chewing her lower lip, Flynn notices; deciding to take a chance, he tentatively places one hand on her shoulder. She doesn't reject his touch, much to his surprise. "Yes, I do," he says, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. "I'm concerned about you – you've been distracted lately, and you looked like you were about to cry when you returned with Yuri to help us today. Did something happen?"

She lifts her head to meet his eyes. Then, to his complete and utter shock, a noise like a _huffing sigh_ comes from her throat and she jerks her head away. "Typical Flynn," she grumbles, shaking his hand off of her shoulder. Flynn straightens, eyes widening in surprise at her reaction. He opens his mouth for further inquiry, but Sodia's not done. "'Distracted… distracted at training sessions,' he says. Ha!"

"Did… did I say something wrong?" he queries, honestly confused.

"Something… something _wrong?"_ Sodia has slipped back into the slurring tones of a drunk person and she takes a step closer, chin defiantly lifted to make up for the small height difference between them. "Damn right you said something wrong, Flynn," she mumbles at last. "You… just don't get it, do you?"

Flynn doesn't particularly understand what there is to "get," and he opens his mouth, fully intending to voice that thought aloud.

He gets his answer to his unspoken question, however, when Sodia rather abruptly lunges forward, grabs hold of his upper arms, and crushes her lips to his.  
The instant his second-in-command's mouth touches his, any thought of nervousness or dread or even propriety flies completely out of Flynn's mind, to be replaced with a strange fog that clouds his judgment. The only thing he can think is how _good_ and how _right_ this feels, and he can overlook the fact that the aftertaste of wine lingers on Sodia's lips and that her body is leaning heavily against his. The grip she has on his biceps is tightening now in an attempt to just stay _up,_ and it occurs to Flynn, vaguely, that underneath the heavy scent of alcohol he can detect just the faintest hint of creamy vanilla on her hair and on her skin.

Of course, now that Flynn's shock has worn off and he's let this last longer than the appropriate half second, it hits him with the force of a blade clashing against his own that his body is strangely, treacherously _enjoying _this. His hands come halfway up, intending primarily to push her back and drag her back to camp over his shoulder if he has to.

But at the same moment his fingers make contact with her shoulders, she makes this odd little noise into his mouth that's a groan and a growl at once, almost as if to convey her despair and ask him to just let her do this. Flynn's surprise at this gesture (if she were sober, he reflects hazily, she would never do this to him) fades away when he feels her hands shift to his chest and tighten into the cloth of his shirt.

_She wants this too._

Of course, the fact that he's let himself realize that _he_ wants this – is breathing in that vanilla with the force of an addict and actually completely ignoring the bitter wine-taste on her mouth – causes Flynn to lose his reason even further. And almost against his will he finds himself bringing those once-resistant hands up to slide over the small of her back, and again she moans against his lips and presses herself against his chest even further, if possible, and Flynn feels his heartbeat quicken ever more rapidly and the fog thicken even more inside his mind.

The last trace of mental warning toward himself falls away, and his hands manage to shift from their formerly-stalwart position at her waist to against the back of her broad shoulders. He's never noticed how strong Sodia has grown until now, now that he's making close and personal contact with those muscles (there's a reason she consistently defeats the other knights in training sessions, he supposes).

But that was then and this is now, and now Flynn is sorely tempted now to run his fingers through that vanilla-scented orange hair and see how soft it feels –

"Commandant Scifo?"

Flynn freezes.

The grating voice sounds again. "Commandant Scifo, where are you?"

Just like that, the fog lifts.

A sense of icy clarity overcomes Flynn's senses, and after the initial dizziness wears off and he has some control over his heartbeat, it hits him fully what's going on, and how indecent this situation would seem to anyone watching. The sight of the respected captain clinging to her superior, kissing him desperately enough to suck all the oxygen from his lungs (and that superior kissing her back with equal fervor) would have been the end of both captain and superior's careers.

Not to mention the blackmail.

That thought gives Flynn the strength to carefully move his hand from its formerly-stalwart position at her shoulders, to the slope where neck meets shoulder. He has a sinking feeling Sodia knows what's going on even though she's clearly still intoxicated, because she has already drawn back and is staring at him with an unreadable expression in those violet eyes.

Nonetheless, Flynn gives her a gentle push away from him, and his heart breaks a little (why should that be happening, he wonders; it was just a passing case of lust, he doesn't love her in that way) as Sodia continues to watch him. In some way, he realizes, the haze is wearing off of her mind as well, because her eyes are clearing and reason is beginning to return to her expression.

"Sodia," he speaks, and his voice is so breathless that the name comes out as a ragged whisper. He swallows and tries to speak again. "We have to get back to camp."

Those catlike eyes blink once, and blink twice, and blink three times. Then Sodia presses one hand against the nearby tree for support, and, flushed and disheveled as she is, Flynn can't help but notice the unmistakably dignified air to her now. In any other circumstances he would be sighing in relief that his second-in-command is back to normal, but now it only makes him want to cry. "Y-yes, sir," she murmurs, her voice even more raspy from lack of breath, with no trace of the slurring from before.

They walk back to camp in silence. Flynn nearly reaches out a steadying hand every time she stumbles over a protruding root or even just from the alcohol, but every time he does so she refuses to accept his help, not daring to meet his eyes as she does so. He recognizes how ashamed she is, and wants nothing more than to reassure her that everything will be all right, but he's not even sure of that himself.

Leblanc meets them at the entrance to the forest, and notices the awkward silence between them and the dust in their hair, but says nothing, merely watching them with wide eyes as he asks who should take watch first. Flynn is the one who answers, albeit a little unsteadily, and says that he himself will take first watch.

This, of course, proves to be the biggest mistake he could have made, because as he sits down on one of the hills to survey his surroundings, he can't help but glance over his shoulder, just for an instant. What greets him is the sight of Leblanc passing Sodia a mat to sleep on for the night. As she takes the burden from the bumbling knight, she casts a look Flynn's way, looking more than a little uncomfortable when their eyes meet, but somehow seeming unable to tear her gaze away. It is Flynn who breaks the contact first, jerking his head down to stare at the ground.

Somehow, he can feel in his gut that he didn't enjoy that kiss just because of lust.

* * *

The next morning comes. Flynn barely got any sleep last night due to the turmoil going on in his head, and tries to distract himself by directing the construction of a town in the plains – to avoid another vicious monster attack, he explains.

Yuri and Brave Vesperia return late that afternoon, when the sun is just beginning to reach its vantage point on the western horizon, with Ioder and Kaufman and their respective groups accompanying them. Seeing his closest friend with the people who helped him get this far, Flynn is reminded of how alone he himself is: that even though the commandant is surrounded by people who support him, Yuri seems to be his only true friend in the deepest sense of the word.

Almost against his will, Flynn finds himself looking back at the mage and second-in-command standing at attention behind him. The former seems bemused at the sudden awkward silence between the two knights, and keeps glancing rather nervously back and forth between the two; the latter simply stares at the ground, the strange subdued attitude that Yuri's presence seems to induce amplified even more by the events of the previous evening.

And Flynn's stomach clenches rather abruptly when it hits him that even Yuri had hinted at Sodia's internal conflict toward Flynn. _Thank your second-in-command for thinking of you,_ Yuri had answered at Flynn's inquiry of why the long-haired man had arrived yesterday with his guild. At the time, Flynn hadn't thought too much of it – he'd been too busy fending off those monsters – but now those words rang as an after-the-fact premonition.

Soon, Yuri approaches Flynn (alone, because the rest of Brave Vesperia is still looking around in awe at the speed of the construction, except Rita, who is working on a way to combat the Adephagos with Witcher), clearly sensing that something was wrong with Flynn – if not wrong, then at least _off_. Impulsively, Flynn asks Yuri to meet him outside of town later, and Yuri responds readily enough.

Flynn doesn't catch it, but Sodia's gaze flickers over to him while he and Yuri are talking, her catlike eyes widening slightly in vague interest.

* * *

In all honesty, Flynn hasn't asked for a private conversation with Yuri to reveal the events of last night (that seems to be the collective reference to it, Flynn muses; he'll take it over _Sodia kissing me_ any day). The reprieve from such a conflicting memory is more than welcome, but this issue has been bothering Flynn for such a long time that it has much the same effect as last night.

Yuri says Flynn is carrying the burden that he himself can't. Flynn finds that difficult to believe, and wants to say so, but doesn't want to resort to shouting at his friend again. And Yuri simply smirks, draws his blade in his typical flourish of flicking the scabbard to the side, brandishes it as he speaks.

"You can't beat me in an argument. But I know what you _can_ beat me in. This."

* * *

"Yuri, wait."

The aforementioned man, standing at the town gate, turns only slightly in response to his friend's voice. "You called, Commandant?"

"Yuri, don't," Flynn sighs. The resignation in his tone is enough to surprise even Yuri, who turns around to face Flynn fully.

"What's the deal with you, Flynn?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. "You seemed distracted before we even got out here. Something else bothering you?"

Flynn hesitates, immediately wanting to say it was nothing and take back such a moronic move in calling Yuri back. But no, Flynn's gotten himself into this good and deep now.

"Last night, after you all left…" He lowers his voice and stares at the ground, watching a caterpillar crawl past with sudden interest.

"C'mon, Commandant, speak up. I can't hear you from all the way over here." Contradicting his own words, Yuri has stepped up so that Flynn's whisper is almost appropriate.

Hearing Yuri's never-failing sarcasm cheers Flynn up a bit, but the awkward memory of last night eclipses that amusement. "I was out getting supplies… one of the knights had alcohol…"

Yuri whistles lowly. "The great and powerful imperial knights stooping so low as to _drink?_ Now I've heard everything."

Flynn winces. Now comes the hard part. "I didn't know it, but… Sodia got ahold of some of it."

This induces an unexpected response from Yuri (who as far as Flynn knows shouldn't really care – not yet anyway – if Sodia has had access to alcohol). The dark-haired man actually lets out a small murmur of shock, and Flynn swears he sees a shadow pass over his friend's eyes.

"I got back here, and I went to find her. But… she was too drunk when I did find her, and…" Flynn trails off on purpose, hoping that Yuri understands what is being left unsaid (he can't bring himself to say it anyway).

Yuri blinks, and blinks, and blinks again. Then a full, from-the-gut laugh begins to rumble from him, until he's almost shaking with the force of it.

"What's so funny?" Flynn demands, dropping the pretense of secrecy.

After a few moments, Yuri's laughter begins to peter off, and he brings one hand up to his eyes to wipe away imaginary tears. "Wow, Flynn. Didn't think she had it in her."

"Neither did I," Flynn murmurs, looking down again.

"So what all happened?" Yuri asks, being sure to keep his voice down.

Flynn shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. "We kissed," he mumbles, unwilling to admit the extent of how much they had done it. "And then I heard one of the knights calling for us to come back."

Yuri smirks, much to Flynn's surprise. "Well, Flynn, I have to say," he drawls, clapping the knight on the back, "it's about damn time she did something to show her feelings to you."

"Wh-what?" is Flynn's intelligent response.

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me the great commandant is so oblivious that he could never see what everyone else could? It's about time, is all I can say."

"W-well," Flynn blusters, "you're one to talk! What about you and Lady Estellise?"

At the mention of the pink-haired princess, Yuri only shrugs, grinning (but is it just Flynn, or does his expression actually _soften_ a little?). "What _about_ me and Estelle? We're just good friends. We've never had a drunken makeout before, though…"

Flynn groans and covers his eyes with one hand, rubbing his temples with the fingers of that hand. "I should've known better than to talk to you about this," he mutters.

Yuri has been snickering the whole time, but at Flynn's remark, he seems to decide to have a little mercy on the poor lovestruck commandant. He puts one hand on his hip. "Well, Flynn, your secret is safe with me. All I have to say is that you need to decide how _you_ feel before it's too late."

The blond's eyes widen as he lowers his hand from his eyes to stare at the long-haired man. "Yuri?"

"It's safe to say that she's already figured out how she feels about you," Yuri explains, the corners of his mouth twitching at the obviousness of his own statement. "But a girl like that doesn't wait forever for you to reciprocate after she's made the first move. Besides…" His face darkens ever so slightly. "If we can't figure out a way to defeat the Adephagos, then there might not be time to worry about that anyway."

The reality of what Yuri is saying begins to slowly sink in. _Before it's too late…_

Without another word, Yuri turns on his heel and starts back to town, leaving Flynn there staring at the ground. At the moment, the commandant's mind is reeling with Yuri's advice.

And that brings up the question that Flynn has dreaded facing, ever since he had decided to take first watch last night, ever since Sodia had looked back at him and their eyes had locked. Does he… care for her in that way?

_Might as well say the l-word,_ a very Yuri-like voice in the back of Flynn's mind points out, _go ahead and face it._

Sure, Sodia has supported him through so much. And, now that Flynn thinks back, it's so obvious that she… cares for him in that way (_l-word,_ Yuri sing-songs in his head, _stop avoiding it_). But he has always passed off her refusal to leave his side as sheer devotion to her superior, nothing more, and he's sure that he only feels friendship and loyalty toward her in return.

Yet the memory of last night, of the desperation of her kiss (well, he said the _k_-word, that's a start) and the vanilla in her hair, of how much Flynn had enjoyed it (he's pretty sure that if he just loved her as a friend and comrade then he would have immediately pushed her away), totally contradicts his previous opinions of her, in a way that he now knows he _can't_ just call it a simple case of lust and leave it at that.

So that brings him back to the question. Does he… care for her?

_Now this is just getting old,_ Yuri grumbles.

"It'll work!" a voice cries out from up ahead, effectively throwing Flynn out of his thoughts. With the feeling of someone surfacing from deep water, Flynn spots Rita Mordio, Witcher, and Lady Estellise standing in front of Yuri, looking so elated that the knight can't help but smile himself, relieved. _This nightmare will be over soon. _The smile grows slightly when Estellise inevitably runs to Yuri's side, looking up at him in her innocent way.

The melancholy from before takes over Flynn again, though, when a flash of orange catches his eye and he sees his second-in-command standing awkwardly off to the side. Immediately the question rushes back into his mind.

_Does he… care for her?_

"Our only problem is time," Rita is saying. "We need to build the blastia core network and prepare for the converge process simultaneously."

_Converge… process…?_ Flynn nearly smacks himself for not listening.

"I'll handle the network," Witcher says. "We do have some people from Aspio who can help too."

"We'll need a guard," Captain Schwann – Raven – muses aloud. "Better keep an eye on the monsters and the Adephagos."

Flynn instinctively steps forward, trying to ignore the way Sodia gives a start when she sees him. "The knights will take that position," he says, feeling suddenly self-conscious under her stare.

She surprises him even more when she speaks. "We will protect all with our life." Though the words are all but a murmur from where Flynn is standing, her chin is raised high in her normal defiance and her violet eyes are clear.

Flynn almost smiles. _That's the Sodia I know and…_

And he has to cut himself off there, because that brings up the question again.

Unconsciously, he finds himself staring right at Sodia (he's still listening to the conversation, albeit a little absently). Her head is inclined toward the ground as she tugs almost nervously at her braid and chews on her bottom lip (two nervous habits of hers, he's noticed) yet when she lifts her head to meet his gaze she does it evenly enough.

Unbidden, the question returns to his mind. _Does he love her?_

At that moment, Yuri casts a sidelong glance in his friend's direction and smirks to himself, and both men's thoughts seem to reverberate together.

_Yes. Yes, he does._

The decision is made that Brave Vesperia will stay the night at the inn, and as the guild disperses, Flynn feels a sudden tightness in his stomach, a feeling that intensifies when he sets eyes on his second-in-command. He takes a deep breath to ready himself, heartbeat suddenly spiking (it's not that she'll reject him at all, oh no, it's the new question of whether or not he has made the right decision) in a way that makes his heart hammer tangibly against the inside of his ribs.

"Sodia," he says, hesitantly, and she turns to look at him, eyes wide in confusion and curiosity. "I…" Inhale, exhale. "I want to talk to you."

"Yes, sir," she says steadily.

The two knights head over to the edge of town in order to have more privacy, both walking as if on legs made of marshmallow. Flynn doesn't realize it, but Sodia's nervous heartbeat is echoing his own.

After what seems like forever, Flynn finally turns the corner and stops when he reaches a solid wall; a quick rudimentary scan shows him that they've gone behind the small inn. _Well,_ he tells himself, _you wanted privacy and you've got it._

Somehow, that doesn't make his impending confession any easier.

He turns around so that his back is to the wall and watches Sodia closely. For the most part, she looks composed, but the same awkwardness still remains like a vast gulf between them.

"What did you want, Commandant?" she queries briskly.

Normally Flynn would react in a teasing way and remark _we're not working Sodia, first name basis is fine. _But these are clearly not normal circumstances.

"About last night…" he falters, trying very hard not to break eye contact with her (this is so hard because she's the first woman he has ever cared for like this and so he's not exactly sure what to do).

The mere mention causes Sodia's shoulders to slump in a tiny sigh. "I apologize for my behavior, Commandant. I'm ready to accept my punishment."

"Punishment?" Flynn blinks, then chuckles, his laughter becoming a bit more drawn out due to nervousness. "Why would I punish you for it?"

Sodia's eyes widen, then narrow. "Why _wouldn't_ you punish me? I acted out of turn, Flynn," she murmurs, looking away and effectively breaking the eye contact. "I shouldn't have done what I did, even if I was… drunk at the time." She winces visibly at the memory.

"Sodia…" Flynn sighs. "I know why you did that."

"Why?" This time, a hint of _anger_ is present in the female knight's voice, and she jerks her head up to glower at him with enough intensity to make Flynn instinctively step back against the wall. "Do you know why, Flynn? It's because I was sad, and desperate. It's because I wanted something to…" She gulps and takes a couple of shallow breaths before continuing, her fists clenching at her sides. (Only now does Flynn notice the tears glistening in her eyes.) "I wanted something to make me forget about how I practically murdered your best friend!"

Silence.

Well… _this_ certainly wasn't the kind of confession-exchange Flynn had been expecting.

"Wh-what?" he manages at last.

Now that the secret is out in the open, Sodia seems much more subdued than before. "It was at Zaude," she murmurs, gnawing her lip furiously. "You probably remember finding a bloody dagger at the top. That was mine."

All the pieces are falling into place now, Flynn realizes with a surge of nausea deep in his gut. "Why?" he asks through the growing lump in his throat. "Why did you try to kill Yuri?" He doesn't mean for it to, but an edge of fury makes its way into his tone.

A weak chuckle comes from her direction. "Because I was jealous of him, Flynn. I wanted the same kind of closeness that you had with him. I…" She tentatively comes closer. "I also thought that he was having a harmful effect on you."

"And so you thought by taking him out of the picture, I would go back to the way I was before." It's not a question so much as a confirming statement. Sodia stares down at the ground and nods.

It takes a few minutes or so (minutes filled with clearing red mist over his eyes and labored, furious breath on Flynn's part) for the anger to wear off, but now Flynn is starting to remember the reason why he's here. His temper is still roiling inside him, but he can keep it at bay for now. "I'm not going to punish you for that," he says. Her head jerks up in shock at his words. Trying not to let himself get disarmed by those wide catlike eyes, Flynn continues, rather gently. "Just tell me why you felt jealous toward Yuri."

In response, Sodia merely lowers her head again, her braid swinging slightly as she does so: almost as if to ask why he has to make her say it.

It's probably at this moment that Flynn decides to cast all caution and patience to the winds, decides to stop waiting for the opportune moment to say it and to just say it.

"I called you here because I wanted to say… I love you too."

Silence.

Sodia had raised her head and opened her mouth in preparation to speak, but Flynn's words have frozen her in place. He would have almost laughed – such a flustered expression is wonderfully rare on her countenance – but he doesn't think the situation calls for it.

She's halfway through with the comment she had planned to say (has reached the "Flynn, I –", actually, which is much closer than she ever thought she would get to telling him) when he bends down slightly, cups her cheek with one hand, leans in, and kisses her.

It's such a drastic difference from the last time they kissed that he nearly smiles at the thought. Last time had been desperate, filled with unresolved tension that Flynn hadn't realized he had felt; now, it's as though warmth is tracing its fingers throughout his chest and causing his heart to both feel light and yet too heavy for his chest at once (almost like a burden has been released from him only to be replaced by another one, which, in a sense, is true).

He feels her awkwardly looping her arms around his shoulders, and for a few brief, blissful moments, it's just the two of them standing there behind the inn, it's just the vanilla taste on her mouth and the taste that Sodia can discern as Flynn's own essence on her tongue, there's no Adephagos, no Brave Vesperia, no rules and propriety and regularities, no sorrow from the past to plague either of them.

Just for now, they can let themselves go and share everything with one another.

And just for now, that's all right.

Eventually, though, breathing through their noses only gets them so far, and eventually, ironically, Sodia's the one that draws back first, if only just. She slips her arms down his back to accommodate her relaxing from her former position on her tiptoes (the height difference is going to get her every time, she knows) and presses her head against his chest, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat become the beat of hers. In response, he holds her close. Words are not spoken between them, but he can feel wetness soaking into his shirt and presses her closer.

On the horizon, the sun disappears fully.

* * *

They walk back to the center of town, not touching, but both feeling a sense of satisfaction that could not have been obtained by holding hands and revealing this to the rest of the world. Brave Vesperia has dispersed to gather supplies throughout town, except for Estellise, who is standing nearby. She glances back, sees the two of them standing so close together (their shoulders are barely brushing now as they approach Witcher and begin to engage in conversation with him), and smiles to herself. _I'm happy for both of you, Flynn._

It's a strange feeling. Back when all of this started, she would have felt an invisible spike cleave her heart in two at the sight of Flynn and his second-in-command's new intimacy (even if they didn't think it was obvious, Estelle can still tell when somebody close to her is in love). Now, though, things have changed. She's seen the world, made so many new friends.

And that chivalrous, determined young knight has been replaced by his sarcastic, unconventional best friend in her mind.

Flynn and Sodia bid Witcher a good night, and the trio splits up, moving off toward their own respective sleeping quarters. But before Flynn can get too far, he feels glove-clad fingers clench tentatively around his wrist. He turns his head and receives just a flash of orange in warning before Sodia's head is against his chest.

Only he catches the words murmured softly into the night air.

_"If we die tomorrow…"_

He shushes her before she can continue. That possibility is gone, he thinks. They – the knights, the guilds, Brave Vesperia, Yuri, Estellise – can't have gotten this far, only to die at the hands of the Adephagos and Duke.

They're going to win tomorrow. He knows it.

And he voices that to her in just as quiet a voice before gently tightening the hug for an instant and departing from her.

Sodia watches him leave and smiles to herself, lightly touching her fingertips to her lips. _Yes,_ she thinks, _you're right, Flynn. We'll be okay._

* * *

It's over. They're both still alive. Brave Vesperia succeeded.

Flynn turns to Sodia, who is standing beside him, her eyes wide as she watches the blastia-turned-spirits weave their way across the sky. And as the shape of the Entelexeia Ba'ul makes itself known against the clearing clouds, making its way toward them, Flynn slips his hand into Sodia's, causing her to start slightly in surprise before recovering and turning to him.

"What now?" he asks, in barely more than a whisper.

She merely smiles in reply.

* * *

DEAR GOD THE ENDING. -dies-

Erm, yeah.

(WHY DO YOU HATE MY HORIZONTAL RULES, FNN, WHY!)


End file.
